


Spiral Instances

by Aris



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abused Loki, Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Violence, Alcoholism, Angst, Anorexia, Bruises, Bruises everywhere, Bullying, Burns, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Insomnia, Loki Angst, Loki's Lips Sewn Shut, M/M, More tags to be added stay tuned, Multi, Non-Graphic Child Abuse, Odin's A+ Parenting, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self Harm, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris/pseuds/Aris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>RENAMED: WAS 'HOW TONY KNOWS LOKI'</b>
</p><p> </p><p>When Tony Stark meets Loki Laufeyson, he was still going by Loki Odinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odinson

**Author's Note:**

> This will get extremely triggering please be careful and make sure you're okay with all the tags before proceeding 
> 
> 2017 edit:: Looking back, to me, this fic promotes an unhealthy attitude towards eating disorders and misrepresents those involved with abuse and/or makes use of tropes which are misleading. Please bear this in mind while reading.

When Tony Stark meets Loki Laufeyson, he was still going by Loki Odinson.

Tony’s fifteen and not really interested in Thor’s thirteen year old brother - Loki is quiet, withdrawn and prone to sticking close to his brothers side. When Tony first gets to see him, he tries to be nice to the younger boy, Thor speaks of him a lot, but all Loki does is flinch at his loud introduction and scowl when Tony tries to touch him. Tony, unused to being met with anything but fluttering eyelids and wide smiles, is put-out, and decides Loki is weird. He doesn’t try to talk to him again.

Thor is fiercely protective of his brother, and doesn’t take too kindly to Clint and Tony’s light teasing of the dark-haired boy, telling them to leave Loki alone. All it does, really, is stop the boys from saying anything in front of Thor - Loki is nearly always with Thor, but every now and then Thor goes to the kitchen, the bathroom - and Clint descends, playful smirk ever present. It’s fun to poke Loki, to see him flinch and see how many times it takes before he stops flinching, before he starts glancing towards the door Thor disappeared through. He never complains, never cries like Tony half expects him to, he stays silent and keeps his eyes on the ground, unresponsive to their taunting. It would be unnerving if Loki wasn’t already so obviously weird.

He never tells Thor, either, when he comes back. Just casts his flimsy, small smile towards his brother and, if he shifts marginally closer, Thor never notices.

###### 

Tony doesn’t even know Loki has turned fourteen, his only indication is the quiet conversation the boy holds with Thor about not telling anyone else, _please._ Tony is smart enough to delay his entry for a few more seconds, and to make it as loud as possible to allow the brothers time to separate. He smiles at Loki, and Loki only looks down at the floor, the bruise visible between the locks of his fringe glinting painfully in the stark lights of Tony’s kitchen. It makes Tony’s stomach twist in a funny way, especially when Thor rests a heavy hand on Loki’s jutting shoulder, an unconscious sign of comfort.

Loki had joined their school this year. Being a slight kid with girly, long hair and a shy composure, he was an easy target for the bullies in the year above, even some opportunists in his year thought it would be fun to take a few swings at him. Tony had seen them on the way to his lessons, caging Loki in against the lockers, tripping him up, barging into his shoulder and opening his bag while he walked, laughing when his folders fell out and stamping on his pencils. Loki dealt with it all with an empty, downcast face, eyes sticking resolutely to the floor. 

Tony could recognise that face. It’s the one Loki always pulls on when Clint and Tony poke him with the TV remote, asking him to talk and laughing when he doesn’t. Looking back, it makes him feel sick.

He tries to be nicer, he really does, but the shadows under Loki’s eyes grow along side the prominence of his collarbones, the shoulders that are covered more and more often - Tony catches him smoking, once, long fingers cupping the dirty white of a slim cigarette, pale lips parted to birth long tendrils of smoke. Tony had met his eyes, and did nothing, leaving Loki to his slow death, telling himself it’s not his business what Loki does. Loki slips from their group next, if he was ever really part of it, and Thor shows up alone more frequently than not. At the start, Thor is anxious to get home, a little on edge at the mention of his brother but, slowly, he fades back into his casual, charismatic self, and no-one mentions how his hand reaches to the side as if searching for someone, and how he still turns after saying a joke, expecting a pale face and promising smile. 

Three days before Loki’s fifteenth birthday, Tony remembers the date from that day that seemed so long along, longer than a year, Loki’s main harasser, a boy with light brown hair and lovely blue eyes, comes into school with a cigarette burn on his neck.

He doesn’t trip Loki up anymore. No one does.

Inexplicably, Tony still notices bruises hidden under long sleeves and tightly wrapped scarves.

###### 

When he’s seventeen, Tony moves out of his house because Howard is a selfish bastard and he’s sick of coming home to a strained Jarvis and a hysterical, drunk Marie. He gets an apartment nearby school, pricey because of it’s priority location, and Howard is more than happy to pay for it - Tony know’s he’s over the moon his failure son is out from underneath his roof, another responsibility swept under the carpet. He gets to drink every night and have friends, and girls, over as often as he likes. He lives closer to Thor than Clint, and the blonde haired boy - man? - is over every other night, loud and almost aggressively happy. Tony enjoys the company because, honestly, it can get kind of lonely on his own and Thor’s personality is big enough to fill up a machine or two.

Thor never talks about Loki.

And that’s okay, it’s clear to everyone that Loki is… suffering. Tony catches glimpses of him in the corridors. He’s wraith-like, now, past the point of skinny, and in the habit of dressing every inch of himself in swaths of black, heavy material. From the sleeve of his leather jacket protrudes a slightly longer sleeve, which is, in turn, swallowed by light, leather fingerless gloves. Under the jacket there is a dark jumper, the hood spilling over the collar of his leather jacket, drawstrings dangling over the soft material of a plain t-shirt, it’s neck high and surpassing proper. Any skin that might be on show from that is wrapped up in the folds of a scarf - not even his ankles are displayed, black skinny jeans tucking into the confines of heavy boots, surely fastened and intimidating. 

It’s hard to think he’s only sixteen, his height and the way he holds himself now, chin up and eyes straight, gives him the impression of being older. Tony would have thought he was in his year group, if he hadn’t known Loki before.

Except.

Tony is walking home from the store - he’s inclined to buy all his own stuff, now, something which had taken some getting used to - when a form, lithe and familiar, staggers out from Thor’s garden. He only has time to register that, yes, said figure is coming straight towards him, when the younger boy hits him, lagging against his chest and hitting the floor rather abruptly. Tony quickly drops his bag and crouches down to the small form that is definitely Loki, though it’s a close shot without all the heavy layers, and briefly touches his arm where a large, purple bruise happily blossoms. 

At the touch, Loki is hurriedly scrambling away, pale wrists marred with thick, dark lines quickly coming into view alongside further bruises stretching out across his arms and exposed neck. He stares at Tony, eyes wide, almost blown, and hand half raised in a defensive position.

That twist, the one Tony had felt all those years ago at the bruise hidden under Loki’s fringe, comes back full force to his stomach.

“Loki?” 

The boy’s eyes widen further but he doesn’t move an inch, chest rising and falling rapidly and legs trembling despite him being seated on the ground. Tony kind of wants to cry at the sight.

“Loki, are you okay? What happened?” No response, so; “Have you got anywhere to stay?”

The door to Thor’s house slams shut, Tony hadn’t even noticed is was still open, and Loki shakes his head, eyes finally falling down to the pavement.

Tony helps him up.

When he wakes up in the morning, Loki is gone from his couch and one of his hoodies, the green one that reminded him of Loki’s eyes, is gone from its place on the back of a chair.

It was one of his favourites, but he can’t bring himself to be angry, especially when he sees it tucked under Loki's leather jacket the next day, emerald material falling out over his jeans.


	2. Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of triggers - proceed with caution.
> 
> [check out my tumblr](http://norsed.tumblr.com)

Then, Tony is off to University at MIT and doesn't seen Loki for another few years.

College is good and Tony becomes friends with one Bruce Banner, the timid kid (who does not remind him on a younger Loki, not at all) in his Physics class. Bruce has a dry sense of humour and is almost as enthusiastic as Tony about science, eagerly engaging in nearly every one of his doomed-to-fail experiments carried out in his new apartment, though, technically speaking, Tony owns the whole building. Or, Howard does, but he'll do anything to keep his son away from home. It's a bitter sweet win.

More importantly, Bruce doesn't want Tony for his money or his fame, never asking for anything. Tony had learned quickly that the students of MIT, not to mention the professors, were a bit too ready to smile at Tony, a little too fast on the doing of favours. If they thought that being kind to him, his father's only failed endeavour, would put them on Howard's good side, then they were sadly mislead - but Tony could still enjoy it, right? You couldn't buy that brand of admiration.

Tony graduates three years early and, before setting out onto the world, returns home. There's something appealing about coming back to the town where he grew up, even though he's only been away three years. It feels like he's completing something, saying goodbye for good to being sixteen and clumsy. 

He didn't know Howard was dying.

Maria is, surprisingly, sober when Jarvis brings Tony to her. She is sat by Howard's bed, an expression Tony hasn't seen since he was... Six? Seven? Adorning her features. It's kind, and adoring and she holds tight to Howard's hand like she really wants him to stay - and she might. She actually fucking might.

Maria says 'cancer' and Tony is back in his old apartment before he even wants to think about the state of his fathers lungs.

###### 

He calls Thor.

"Hello?" The voice is deep and throaty, picking up after only two rings.

Tony is flooded with memories.

"Thor? Is that you?" He knows it's Thor, of course, he fucking called and it's only been three years. Only three. He can still recognise his best friend's voice. Or is it ex-bestfriend, now?

Silence.

"Tony fucking Stark," Tony feels oddly giddy, "I can't believe this. God, Tony, it's been so long. How's MIT?" Thor rattles off the questions, enthusiastic as ever, and Tony smiles for the first time in days, cheeks hurting from the strain. 

"Hey, Thor - are you, you're still at - you're home, right? Where we grew up? I'm visiting and-"

"You know of the park? Near Clint's old street?" asks Thor. Tony nods till he realises Thor needs a verbal reply and answers out loud, fidgeting with his belt buckle and staring out onto the pavement below.

"I'll meet you there, at six? Is that okay?"

###### 

Thor is as imposing as ever, tall and strikingly blonde and still wearing those plaid button-up tops Tony had teased him mercilessly for. He's smiling, as he approaches, and it takes a moment for Tony to identity the black-eyes for what it is, slightly covered by what looks to be make-up.

Before he can ask, he is swept into a hug and pulled tight against a strong chest and, yeah, Thor's been working out, but it's pleasantly warm and more than a little comforting. Tony misses hugs.

"Thor! Buddy! It's good to see you, but what's this wonderful black eye you're sporting? New fashion craze?" Thor's large hand goes up to touch the side of his own face, a frown overtaking his previously joyous expression for only a moment.

"I will explain later, Tony. For now let us go on to my home - we have much to catch up on!" Thor claps his hand on Tony's back and he almost collapses forward onto his knees, coughing instead and looking up to Thor with watery eyes. 

"Maybe a little less brawn, buddy?"

###### 

His home is small and on the edge of the rough part of town, though, given Thor's stature, Tony thinks getting beaten up, or even robbed, is out of the question. The man's built like a tank. A big, scary blonde tank who is currently making Tony coffee - black because Thor knows these things - and settling down opposite him in the kitchen, all welcoming smiles and warm, brief touches.

Tony's ready to launch into the adventures of MIT when the doorbell rings. It's an innocent enough sound, ringing and vaguely charming, but Thor tenses up immediately, the mug in his hand letting out a miniature groan under the strain of Thor's fist. He mutters something about being a minute and briskly disappears into the hallway - Tony, curious by now, follows slowly, leaning on the kitchen door frame as Thor tears the door open, chest buffed out and legs slightly parted, as if ready to fight.

The man standing there is a let down from what Thor's body language was suggesting; some tall guy with a wonky mohawk and a ripped leather jacket, a cigarette pressed to his mouth and a mean set to his eyes. His knuckles, Tony notes, are bruised as he retrieves the half-smoked fag from his mouth and throws it as Thor's feet, spitting along with it.

"I want to see Loki." he states, eyes narrowing and fists flexing menacingly and, yeah, Tony thinks him seeing Loki would be a bad idea, if Loki was anything like how he remembered him. Thor seems to agree if the angry growl he emits is anything to go by.

"Just because Loki didn't call the police doesn't mean I won't - get the fuck out of here, Daniel." Thor takes a step forward, nose to nose with the guys, their chests almost brushing, and glares the guy down, hands half raised. It reminds Tony of the nature documentaries he sometimes caught late at night, the two alpha males of different wolf packs facing each other off, hackles raised and teeth bared. He thinks maybe Thor is a little scarier. 

The guy, Daniel, stands his ground for half a second, before letting out a low 'whatever' and stalking off, lighting another cigarette as he goes.

The front door is half-way towards been shut before he calls out something more in a mocking, cruel tone:

"That stupid faggot isn't worth it anyway."

Thor makes an angry noise and goes to rip the door off its hinges in what could be an attempt to open it, but before Tony can lunge forward to stop him, a lithe, pale hand is on Thor's shoulder, pressing into the bunched muscles there.

"Please, Thor."

Tony shouldn't be surprised as he is to see Loki.

###### 

Loki is getting himself a drink at the kitchen counter, and Tony can't stop staring.

To say it had been a shock to see Loki was an understatement. It wasn't necessarily Loki's presence that caused it, it kind of made sense that Loki might be near his older brother, no, it was more his appearance. Tony had thought Loki looked wrecked in high school but it didn't have a scratchy on his gaunt, beaten image now. The first thing had jumped out was the mess of bloody, red scabs on either side of Loki's mouth, framed by a hand shaped bruise across his jaw, as if someone had gripped Loki's chin. Next was Loki's almost entirely red left eye that was ringed by a ugly, black bruise that spanned over his nose, meeting with a small split at the bridge of it. His cheekbones pointed in harshly, and his collarbones, so closely guarded three years ago, were bared and painfully salient, the ribs under, just glimpsed before the start of Loki's v-neck, were visible bumps with dark dips under each. 

Seeing him now, with his back to Tony and his hair wavy and long, behind his back, Tony could see the protrusions of his spine, could probably fit his whole leg between the gap between Loki's. It was scary. Really fucking scary.

Thor looked like he was in pain.

Tony could relate.

After a few moments, Loki sits besides Thor, a glass of water with a straw in his hand. Tony kind of desperately wants to feed him, but finds himself unable to say anything. He'd just make it worse, after all, he has a talent for that, and by the looks of things, Loki doesn't need it to be any worse than it is.

Thor clears his throat and Tony tries not to stare at the handcuff shaped bruises on Loki's wrists or the bruising all down his neck or the bruising on his upper arms and the cuts, god the cuts, littering all his visible skin, like little i's dotted with cigarette burns.

There's a tense moment between them all and then Thor gets up, something about feeding the cat - they have a cat? - and leaves Loki and Tony alone. Tony is flattered because if Thor is okay with leaving Loki alone with Tony then it obviously means Thor trusts Tony enough to watch over his seriously injured baby brother. It also means Tony is now alone with said seriously injured baby brother, and has nothing to say. He looks over Loki, instead, trying to find something that's reminiscent of the old Loki - the fourteen year old Loki, maybe. Before the bullying and the cigarettes.

His eyes are as green as ever, and one having red whites seems to highlight this fact. They are stunning - sharp and intelligent, but also beaten down and worn, like they've seen a little too much bad where there should have been good.

Tony feels that twist again.

Loki shifts uncomfortably under his gaze and Tony realises that he's been staring for the past... Five, ten minutes? He's such an asshole, seriously. Loki angles his arms under the table, looking solemnly down at his glass of water like he's ashamed of himself, of what he's been through.

Feeling like an idiot, Tony shrugs off his jumper, pushing it onto the table and in front of Loki. Fittingly, it's green, a dark, forest green albeit, but a green all the same. It's Loki's turn to stare.

"I, uh. Thought you looked cold."

Loki almost smiles.


	3. Loki

Howard dies.

Tony doesn't go to the funeral - he gets drunk, instead. It's the Stark way of things and Tony's supposes someone has to uphold the age old tradition of getting so fucked up rulers don't look straight, what with Howard... _gone_ and Maria cleaning up her act. However long that's going to last. 

Bruce calls and Tony can't bring himself to pick up the call, instead letting it run to dial two times. Bruce didn't sign up for Tony's emotional bullshit, Tony's pretty sure, and it seemed a little unfair that their first call after graduating would be Tony whining about his daddy issues. So Tony stares at the ceiling instead, tilting his head with the bouts of dizziness, watching the ceiling curl in on itself. He's pretty sure he should be crying or something by now, that's what happens, right? Family members die and everyone else cries.

He wonders if Maria is crying.

Rubbing his face. Tony rolls onto his stomach, pressing his face against the carpet. It's warm and his breath sends hot bouts of air across his lips, accenting the sudden dryness to his lips.

"I really need a drink."

His phone rings again.

###### 

He's not sure how he ended up with the two bruised brothers in his apartment, but they're there and Tony can't really see too straight, and isn't sure why he picked up that last phone call. Thor had never been his go-to man, hell, no one had ever been his go-to for emotional issues. Alcohol always knew how to hold him just right, comforted him in ways a person just couldn't. It wasn't a problem, it really wasn't.

Thor picks him up, he knows it's him because Loki wouldn't have never been able to, and lays him out on his sofa, pushing his legs back up when they promptly fall off the side. Tony wants to scold his legs for being so inconvenient, but ends up crying - something about always being in the way as a child, of Howard shooing him away, always criticizing him, hitting him - and knows he shouldn't be talking, should really shut up like Howard had always yelled at him to do, but everything just keeps tumbling out. 

It's then he realises that it isn't Thor next to him on the sofa, large hand on his knee, but Loki - long, skeletal fingers branched out over his knee cap, hand cold even through the material of Tony's jeans. It's enough to make Tony stop talking, enough to have him glance up, to meet green eyes and realise he's wearing Tony's jacket, the really old one. There's a hole in the shoulder that looks like a knife did it, but Tony can't concentrate hard enough to confirm it. His hands go up to touch it, to feel the frayed edges, but Loki flinches away, comforting presence gone from his leg suddenly.

Tony stares.

"I'd never hurt you, Loki." and he he hopes to God that it comes out as clear as it sounds in his head, hopes the alcohol didn't mess up that little bit of his life.

He thinks, before he passes out, he hears a quiet _'I know'._ But he can't be sure.

###### 

In the morning, he calls Bruce and tells him he's sorry for not picking up - that he was really busy and, oh, yeah, how are you doing? and he almost misses the darkly dressed skeleton delicately seated at his kitchen counter, all bones and harsh lines. _Loki_. He stands before him, one hand idly tapping at the counter as he talks to Bruce, eyes fixed straight at Loki. He's drinking coffee, in one of Tony's, predictably green, mugs, and seems the most relaxed Tony has seen him since he arrived at this god forsaken town.

He had meant to stay a few days, see how things were. He'd been here two weeks.

Looking at Loki, he can't regret it.

While Bruce chats about his new roommate, he's still at MIT, Tony looks over Loki, eyes catching on a fresh looking cut lining the inner side of his wrist. It's wide and long, it's edges a painful pink and scabbing so light it's almost not there. Frowning, Tony reaches his hands out, sure to be slow as not to startle Loki, and brushes his fingertips against the skin next to it. The cold that always seems to radiate from the boy (Tony can't think of him as a man, not when he could snap him in half on accident, not when his eyes are so wide and his manner so shy) instantly infiltrates Tony's skin, seeping root-like up his digits. It's a strange sensation and he wants to shudder, pull away, but there's something about the way Loki isn't hiding the cut, isn't looking away that freezes Tony up, the cold creeping further and further.

"Tony, Tony?" Bruce's tinny voice asks in his ear, a shade of concern working its way into his voice, overlaying the annoyance.

"Sorry Bruce, I'll have to call you back."

Loki doesn't smile, but something in his expression shifts, the bruises on his face realigning to something softer, something Tony wants more of. Loki pushes his cup forwards, into Tony's outstretched hand.

"You look like hell."

It's the first thing Loki's said directly to him since he was fifteen.

###### 

Thor's at work, Loki had said, and he won't be back till six. Tony asks him to stay, give him some company. He just doesn't want Loki walking back alone, doesn't want that asshole Daniel to get his hands on him again - Loki looks relieved, almost. Most of his expressions are only half formed, carefully tucked under an indifferent mask, a mask that's there for reasons Tony doesn't want to know about. The bruises still left on his jaw, the pink tinge to his eye and the cut on his lip speak for themselves - silence is a virtue. Tony's read about abusive relationships, knows all the facts and statistics, had it repeated to him on TV, in adverts, by older women with red lipstick who came into classrooms to talk, eyes pointedly on the girls while insisting it can happen to boys, too.

It's not the same as when Loki refuses breakfast, a downturn to his lips, and how his eyes fall down when Tony tries to insist - submissive but fearful. Tony can't bring himself to eat, after that, and sits nursing another coffee with Loki, talking aimlessly about MIT and Bruce, and how the professors all hated him but pretended they didn't to gain favour with his father. Talking is something Tony can do, at least, even if it borders on incomprehensible, nervous nothings when he thinks Loki isn't listening, doesn't care, doesn't want to be here. The pads of Loki's fingers find Tony's wrist more times than he can count, gentle and cold but something that keeps Tony anchored down.

He supposes he should find it odd. He has never been close to Loki, never really knew him - he watched him closely, Tony would be the first to admit - but he never talked to him, not since he mocked him with Clint when they were younger. Tony can't express how much he regrets that, but he hopes Loki can read it in the anxious twitch of his fingers. Abuse victims are meant to be good at reading body language.

Tony doesn't want to think about it.

###### 

Loki is nineteen and sitting on Tony's sofa, a glass of water held by his hands between his legs because he can't get his thighs close enough to keep the glass in place. 

Tony is 21 and Howard's dead. 

He leaves for New York three days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry's it's kind of short - I've been distracted by this awesome new JARVIS thing I got on my computer, it respond to voice commands and stuff and i've had loads of fun programming it to be sassy as hell to me and to open web pages and play music aha. Check it out [here](http://bible-jpg.tumblr.com/tagged/JARVIS)  
> \+ reminder I follow back on my fandom blog atm[norsed](http://norsed.tumblr.com)


	4. Loki

"Happy birthday."

Pepper smiles something small and warm and Tony wants to feel that comfort, he really does, but. But he smiles back wide and toothy instead, launching into a speech on _'wonderful Pepper'_ and not thinking about the three bottles of vodka that sat in his lab, hidden under a worktop. 

Tony presses a button on the side of his watch, looking on as JARVIS informs him he has an urgent call and Pepper's face falls. He'd like to feel bad about doing it, but the way Pepper kisses his cheek in a sweet platonic way and the loose grasp she briefly holds to his arm is a painful stab to his already shredded heart. He excuses himself, hearing the tap of Pepper's heels as she walks away - back home. To Happy.

It's easier not to think about how his name is oddly suiting for her. How Tony could never give her that.

He's 30 today.

###### 

One bottle of vodka later (and two shots) Tony asks JARVIS to look up Loki Odinson's mobile number. It doesn't exist. JARVIS calls Thor instead.

"Thor?"

"Tony? It's 2am, are you o-" _He still knows._

"What's Loki's number?" 

There's a pause and Tony tries to play back his previous words in his head, skipping over the slurs and missed consonants. He didn't sound sober.

"Thor? He's not in the... the phone directory so I-"

"Laufeyson. Check that."

and Thor hangs up, leaving Tony with the sting of his cold voice, the reality of a sudden departure. Well that wasn't nearly as pleasant as Tony imagined, but it's been five years since he last contacted Thor. Tony's kind of an asshole like that.

"A Loki Laufeyson located in New York City. Call?"

Tony murmured his agreement and stared glassily at the table top - Laufeyson? Did Loki get married? Good for him, or something. He wasn't jealous, it's not like he knew Loki, right? At all.

"Hello?"

He let out a breath.

_"Loki."_

###### 

This might not have been a good idea.

Loki had been distracted, quite clearly, but had agreed to meet Tony tomorrow at a coffee shop on the outskirts of the city centre - he'd muttered something about Tony paying and hadn't asked Tony any questions about why he'd called or how he got his number. He didn't say very much, in fact, but it was still more than what he'd said last time they met. Which was... odd, but not completely unexpected.

But even if Tony had been drunk and calling his ex-bestfriends brother at 2am in the morning hadn't been an amazing idea, it wasn't fair to Loki if he just backed out. And if Tony was interested in how he was doing, no one could blame him. The kid was death walking nine years ago, Tony was happy he was alive - Loki had always been someone different, something the world shouldn't lose. So, Tony sat at the sterile booth, black coffee cupped tightly in his hands with another coffee, black as well, placed opposite him. If he'd remembered right, and Tony was sure he did, owing to his freakishly accurate memory regarding anything relating to Thor's younger brother, then Loki took his coffee the same as Tony did. At least he had on that morning.

He was so caught up thinking about coffee, of all things, that the dark figure slipping into the booth across from him almost went without notice. Until it really, really didn't.

"Stark," greeted the younger man, all harsh cheekbones and long, dark hair. A smile was pulling at his thin lips, a red split in the corner barely concealed by a pale powder and his eyes were dug in with a shadowed-purple, also partially concealed. It wasn't as comforting as Tony had hoped, but the skeletal thinness was gone from the dips of his face and his fingers no longer resembled a corpses,though were still fixed on the slim side. 

"Loki, you look good." a half-truth, at least. He looked better. There was still something haunted about his pale face, thought it wasn't a scratch on nine years ago.

"I dare say you look more so, I've heard you've done quite well for yourself. Stark Industries, eh?" there was something genuine and warm about Loki's words that made a smile pull irresistibly at Tony's mouth. He had changed quite a bit indeed - he couldn't remember the younger Loki ever being so charming, so endearing. It pulled at something in whatever was still left of his heart.

Loki drank from his coffee and talking amiably, easily weaving his way around any questions on his own occupation and directing the conversation to be about Tony's work and Tony's life. Tony hated talking about himself, hated talking about his company, especially to someone he would have liked to relate to on a more person level, but it was still the best conversation he'd had in months. It was probably the way his name sounded on Loki's tongue.

Enticing.

###### 

Tony calls again and again and each time Loki picks up but doesn't talk long, arranging meetings in neutral, public places, He always wore a green scarf and a heavy, black coat that did nothing to conceal the stick-like nature of his legs, but would lead Tony away from these facts with these pretty little smiles and a charming word or two.

If his scarf slipped down to reveal a vicious love bite, still bleeding, or his sleeve caught on the table it rested upon and gave sight to the scratchy material of a bandage, Tony didn't comment. It wasn't his place. Or something so similar to that it sounded equally as stupid - it was abundantly clear someone was harming Loki on a regular basis, it could even be sexual if the hickies were anything to go by, and it made Tony undeniably uncomfortable that is was out of his power to do anything, as Loki refused to part with any information on the matter, or indeed acknowledge there was a matter at hand. 

He remained out of reach and devastatingly charismatic, walking mazes around Tony's attempts to breach the subject. Tony would have believed it all as well, if he hadn't seen Loki before. If he hadn't known -

_'...the bruise visible between the locks of his fringe glinting painfully...'_

_...'hurriedly scrambling away, pale wrists marred with thick, dark lines...'_

_'...mess of bloody, red scabs...handcuff shaped bruises...'_

But Loki doesn't mention it if Tony's wearing the same clothes as last week, or why he always smells like whiskey. Loki doesn't ask about the bruises under his eyes or the burns on his fingers. He just brushes them, gently, or slides a mint across the table.

Tony wishes that could fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, very sorry about the quality of this - I know it's a lot less than previous chapters but I don't feel like I can improve on it. Also note that there's one more chapter left (two if I feel an epilogue is suited), which should rightfully be an extension of this chapter but I'm too tired to get to writing it this week (sorry again). 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it (if possible) and feel free to follow me on tumblr 'cause I need more people to follow ^--^  
> http://anxiousmechanic.tumblr.com


	5. Laufeyson

Loki's just turned 30 when it all comes to head.

Tony had been badgering him, _'come on Loki, it's your birthday, we can go anywhere you like'_ but then another mans voice had rung out at the other end and there was a muffled _'speak later'_ before the call was abruptly ended, leaving Tony staring out at New York holding a phone to his ear, smile fading away. It was easy to forget Loki had someone else in his life - well, somehow he might consider important enough to spend his birthdays with. Tony didn't think that anyone who hurt Loki was important enough to breathe, let alone be with Loki.

His phone let out an ominous groan and he quickly let it go to the floor, realising how tight he'd been holding it. He didn't even know where Loki lived, or the name of his _boyfriend_ , so there was no chance he could drop by and see Loki at all today, unless he called him back.It made him angry because, honestly, Loki was possibly the closest thing he'd had to a friend since Pepper left him and Rhodey took on a position in Boston. He was sick lonely, and Loki had this glint to his eyes, a curve to his neck that made Tony feel like drinking wasn't the only way out.

Or something. 

He shook his head and grabbed a half filled tumbler from the bar, making his way down the stairs to his lab.

###### 

"Tony..."

At the sound of his voice, Tony tries to wrench himself up, feeling immeasurably dizzy as his lab spins around him, swinging back and forth when he's up.

"Loki? You okay?" He's accurately aware of how slurred his voice is, how wrecked he sounds - but, but there was something about Loki's voice, a little catch in his name.

"Tony, please... I." he hears a gasping breath and what sounds like the thump of body on wall "Can you come get me? Please, I..." 

"Loki? Where are you? Are you hurt?" he suddenly doesn't feel so drunk anymore, but there's a dream like quality to the white of his lab and he's not so sure why his eyes feel so dry, itchy.

"I'm at the cafe? You know, the one where we... Obie, he... It's cold, Tony. Please come and get me, I won't be any trouble I swear I just..." A pause, Ton's hand grips the workbench hard. Fingers white, "...I don't think I can walk."

"I'm coming Loki, stay where you are."

Tony hangs up and calls to JARVIS to ring Happy, and that yes, he knew it was 2 fucking am in the morning.

He needed his driver back.

###### 

Tony's out of the car before it draws to a full stop and he's off towards the black-windowed cafe, immediately spotting a small figure crouched on a bench by the alley besides it. _Loki_ and fuck, is that blood? Before he knows what's happening Loki's there and flinching away from the arm around his shoulder, blood running from a split lip and what looks like a broken nose, one eye looks vaguely red, like it's waiting to bruise and his hair is shaggy and unkempt, poking out in odd directions. 

His heart aches.

With a forced, hopeful smile Tony gestures Loki towards his car, the one with the black-outed windows, and doesn't feel the sway the whiskey gives him when he follows. He pretends not to notice the limp, as well, as long as Loki isn't noticing the smell of alcohol. He can't pretend he doesn't see Loki's ribcage through the t-shirts he's wearing, it's the first time he's seen him in anything but a long coat, and there's something fundamentally unsettling about the way Loki's thighs just can't touch. Tony remembers his apartment nine years ago and the glass that wouldn't hold.

He rests his fingers on Loki's cold hand, starting to feel a pattern.

###### 

"I feel like I'm stuck, I just..."

Tony blinks heavily, concentrating on Loki's split lip, dabbing something stronger than whiskey onto the thinner mans lip. Tony wondered if the stuff tasted as bad as it smelt. Loki's lips had a downwards slant.

"First Odin, the kids at school, Daniel and now... Obie." Tony pauses when Loki talks, turning his attention to the blood staining his nose still, the red liquid quite dry and smelling strongly. "He was so nice at first, and I thought, finally. You know." and then Tony finally catches the hint of an all familiar slur, and the gloss in Loki's eyes he'd put down to pain, maybe tears.

"Loki," he says, softly, "Loki, how much did you drink?" he resist the temptation to cup Loki's chin when his gaze drops, remembering all too well the hand shaped prints marking the younger man's jaw, horribly black and forceful.

"I don't want you to tell me anything you wouldn't usually. Not like this." he wants to press a kiss to his forehead, to hold him in his arms. Tony wants to make him soup and buy him thick clothes, pick out books and movies and smile about the rain. Tony feels like a thirteen year old in love, like his world had been slowing down everytime he met Loki, slowing and slowing till it just stopped.

Stopped on Loki, like it had always been supposed to.

"You're drunk too, Stark." there's a twitch of a smile that makes a muscle someone in Ton's chest tighten inexplicably, and the warm pressure he applies to Loki's hand, still held in his from the car, is all Tony can give him right now. _Not like this._

"Yeah, well. I always am." 

Loki shudders abruptly, pale skin mottled with bruises chilling in the slight breeze of the AC. He leans forward, slow and tired, and rests his head on Stark's chest, skin cold even through the material of Tony's shirt. Tony, as ever, pretends he can't feel the tears, that he doesn't hear the _'I wish you weren't'_ muttered into the fabric of his shirt, harsh and caged in Loki's throat.

He pretends he's not crying, too, when he rubs softly at Loki's arms, avoiding bandages and plasters, pretends he can't feel old scars beneath the pads of his fingers.

Pretending's something he can do.

###### 

When Tony wakes up in the morning, it's to a slim figure standing in his bedroom doorway. 

Loki smiles, shyly, his black eye fully bloomed and the slouch to his form suggesting other injuries that Tony should have checked last night, would have if Loki hadn't of been so exhausted, Tony so drunk. He's wearing one of Tony's hoodies, and, and - _fuck_ , it's green. Forest green.

"Loki," Tony says, like it explains it all, and it must sound right because Loki smiles get wider, the scab on his lip breaking and drawing a drop of blood to the pasty colour of his skin.

"Is this okay?" he gestures to the hoodie, and a pair of yoga shorts which are, apparently, Tony's, though he can't remember ever having bought them. They're far too big for Loki, though most things would be, and there's scar after scar and bruise after patchwork bruise winding round his skinny legs, marked with little burns and what looks like carved words. Tony doesn't want to start crying again. Not at all.

"Yeah," Loki steps closer at the words, Tony swallows "yeah, it really is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really unsatisfactory ending????? I may write a epilogue with some real frostiron later on aha. Thanks for reading and [check out my tumblr](http://norsed.tumblr.com)


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